Something Pizza And Beer This Way Comes

When last we left, Jeff had been warned by Kip from the other room: "Uh, red alert, guys! We have a visitor ..."

Clark came bounding down the hall from the direction of the Villains Room, a tad flushed and sweaty. "Pizza's here!"

I traded glances with Jeff. I was on my way for my telephone shift but it looked like I wasn't going to get to it. No big deal as it turned out because the more we hurried up and waited for that Zigfried guy to show up the more pointless his rambling, barely threatening telephone calls seemed to be.

"Screw it. Let's eat," I relented. "Zigmond (or whoever) will show when he shows ... if ever he does."

Following Clark's lead into the formal dining area, Kip had already taken in the delivery and laid out the spread. Clark really outdid himself this time around, too. There wasn't just pizza: There was pizza and all the side fixings as well - several pie varieties, chicken wings and onion rings with their accompanying dipping sauces and more. Now, as a general rule, I'm not really partial to pizza. But it's an underlying craving every once in a while, sort of like when you're hankering for a McDonald's Big Mac deep down inside, despite the fact you know there are much better burgers out there in the world. This is exactly how I feel about pizza. I get cravings for it here and there. Today? While I wasn't at all thinking about pizza the thought of it - accompanied by the nice selection before us - was thoroughly working its magic on me.

Of course there was a nice collection of iced cold malt beverages with which to wash down the pies. Jeff grabbed a trio, popped their tops and hand us one each. (A few Unbelieva-Babes even joined us.)

"A toast! To Zigfield ... or Zagfled ... or whatever his name is. May he come out of that tunnel (wherever it may be) and finally meet up with us (whenever that occasion might arise) so we can put a face with a name (whatever name he's going by at the time.) Until then ... SKOAL! Bon appetit!"

The meal was fine, the conversation and camaraderie equal to the meal and we never heard from Zapftig (or whoever he is) the remainder of the day.

For all we know he may still be trying to negotiate that tunnel ...

The question remained: How could someone so deft at infiltrating and causing such a ruckus* at The Academy Awards be so giving with threats to us while not seeing those threats through?

We might never know who true identity of The Zigster ... or whatever his name is. 

*As it turned out there was a logical, though sorry, explanation to the Oscar's final award flub as detailed by the news which resulted in the firing of a couple PricewaterhouseCoopers employees for their untimely screw-up with the winning envelope for Best Picture, which pretty much negated anything we'd learned of Zugmott (we think) and any of his claims.

Something Ziggy this Way Comes

I took the second shift. When I took over from Clark, he had that same look upon his face that he usually has just prior to defenestrating Henri Petit. I drew him to one side and recommended that he go and take out his aggression in the Villains room, which is like a gym full of dummies with the faces of some of our greatest adversaries on them. Except in Clark's case, he changes them all to Henri Petit. 

Artie the UnbelievaCat conducts an UnbelievaFu™ Unbelievinar™ at the local Radisson, and gives several members of Sum41 an ass-whuppin'.

Clark growled at me under his breath "...that guy.. is so...annoying!!! He keeps telling us he's coming to kick our butts and just never shows up! I mean,  what is WRONG with that dude!!!?" and with that, he stalked off to kick some dummy butt.

Recently declassified photo of Clark warming up for the Villains Room.

I had never seen Clark like this. Zigfiried (or Zigfried or Zigried) had really gotten to him. True, the guy was beginning to irk me somewhat also. But, resigned to my post, I manned the phone.

I didn't have long to wait. In a matter of seconds it began to ring again.

I snatched up the phone. "Hello!?!"

The familiar snarky voice snapped back, "Ah, good morning, Unbelieva-fools! I am on my way, you idiots! I am coming to give you the butt-kicking of your --"

"HOLD ON just one second, Ziggy! All you do is keep threatening and nothing to show for it! You just keep saying you're on your way, well where are you then? Huh? You don't know, because you're not coming at all, are you? You're a one-man  flop, aren't you? you've got no goons, no henchmen, no-one to help. You keep saying you've got to go through a tunnel, well I know for DAMN sure there aren't any tunnels for literally MILES around! So tell us then, Zigster! Where the hell are you, eh?"

" Ah, well, you see, I'm, uh, very close by, quite near, just a little ways away, down the road apiece, not too far..."

"Horse pucky!" I cried. "C'mon, talk to me.... if you can worm your way in to anywhere and disrupt a big ceremony like you did the Oscars, how come you can't come over here and fight?"

Just then, Kip shouted at me from the next room. "Uh, red alert, guys! We have a visitor..."

Something small and sneaky this way comes

"Svxvxvssslisten up, Unbelievabssslllsxzz, forget about the whole svxvsz 72 zxsxz I had visitorszxzzss outa town zzzssx uncle zzsxszxAunt Clara and ffzxzsff Victoria Sandwich afararaaaa-a-a-a-zzzss. I'll be callingzzzfrfrfr Mondayccchhhh fffrfzzzss. So there!" - Yesterday

With that warning, we agreed that we should pay particular attention to the phone ringing and that we should take turns monitoring incoming calls. I drew the first shift and it didn't take long...

*R-i-i-n-g!*
ME: Hello, this is The Unbelievables.
CALLER: Hello! You've just won a...
ME: Oh, we don't have time for this!
(Click)

*R-i-i-n-g!*
ME: Hello, this is The Unbelievables.
CALLER: You dare to hang up on Zigfried?!? Your insolence will cost you dearly!
ME: That was you? You sound much clearer than you did yesterday.
CALLER ZIGFRIED: Ah, sorry about that. I was driving through a tunnel.
ME: Whatever. So, for all this drama, you're nothing more than a two-bit timeshare salesman?
ZIGFRIED: What? No!
ME: Then why did you say we've won some stupid prize?
ZIGFRIED: Ah, but if you hadn't hung up, you'd have heard me say 'You've just won a major butt-kicking from me, the great Zigfried!'
ME: You do realize that people threatening us with major butt-kickings is pretty standard around here, right? Not exactly the most creative way to get our attention.
ZIGFRIED: Ah, but you have never faced an adversary like me! You have no idea what you're up against!
ME: We do, actually. We've seen video of you in action. You're very small. Not that small people are incapable of accomplishing things because of course they are. But your fighting style of throwing yourself at people is rendered ineffective against anyone who anticipates it and simply catches you as they might an overly enthusiastic Golden Retriever puppy, followed by punting you off a bridge, not as anyone would do to a Golden Retriever puppy.
ZIGFRIED: Ah, but you have forgotten my uncanny ability to infiltrate any secure facility, such as your vaunted Unbelieva-base!
ME: Stop saying 'ah' at the start of every sentence. It's unnecessary and pretentious.
ZIGFRIED: Listen to me you buffoon! Svxvxvsss I will sxzz be theresvxvsz zxsxzbefore you realizezxzzss zzzssx zzsxszx at which point it will ffzxzsff  too late-a-a-a-zzzss. Zzzfrfrfr fffrfzzzss.
(Click)

So we know:

• He's sneaky.
• He didn't deny being small.
• It's hard to remember if it's spelled 'Zigfried' or 'Zigfreid' or Zigried' even. All of them look wrong.
• He feels it necessary to point things out by beginning sentences with 'ah', which I find patronizing. 
• He's coming to attack us and he has to pass through a tunnel to get here. 

Hmm, I'd say we're at least partially prepared to deal with whatever comes next.

A small deal is a big deal

"It IS a big deal. I've shown I can worm my way into the most secure of events..."

We, like you, wanted to know more about this 'Zigfried' before we agreed to meet with him. Specifically, how exactly he's able to "worm" his way into things.
The obvious explanation is that he actually is a worm, or more accurately a worm-person. This was rejected almost immediately by Jeff and Michael who have never supported my theories regarding the existence of worm-people to the degree that I think they should.

If they don't exist, why am I able to find a picture of one of them on The Internet?

My admittedly self-defensive follow-up was "well, I'll bet he's at least very small, like most worms are." This was not dismissed outright because both Jeff and Michael agreed that someone of a more diminutive stature might find it easier to hide among a busload of tourists and then sneak around undetected backstage at a crowded awards ceremony. It was right around that time that the Dolby Theater sent over security footage from an exit stairwell...

Ladies and gentlemen, our first glimpse of our newest formidable foe, Ziegfried.

STAY TUNED!!

Meanwhile, At KZRT Radio ...

Crepe: "... and we're back, folks. This is KZRT, your only desert station here in Stiletto Flats and the surrounding area, bringing you all the latest news and weather on the Crepe and Charlemaine Show. We're right in the middle of the topic of the morning, the snafu with The Oscars from last night, the controversial Indian giver move pulled off by the Academy on the good folks at La La Land. What a twist. We've never seen that one before ... and we want to hear from YOU, our listeners on what you think and how you feel. Let's go to another caller. Who do we have up next, Char?"

Charlemaine: "We have Zigfried from right here in Stiletto Flats, Crepe. You're on with Crepe and Char, Zig. What are your thoughts on the Academy Awards debacle?"

Zigfried: "Well ... I have news for you: I was responsible for the whole ruckus. Me."

Crepe: "Really? You mean ... you orchestrated the mix up with the cards during the Best Picture reveal last night? Tell us about that ..."

Zigfried: "Ever seen that scenario before? You haven't. That's because PricewaterhouseCoopers, now known as PwC, has never let that happen before. It took someone ingenious to pull that off. And that someone was me. I infiltrated The Oscars, I made the envelope switch to Warren Beatty and he read the wrong winner. I let PwC have there double check in place in order to showcase the confusion and embarrassment of the situation."

Charlemaine: "We're going to need proof you did it. Why would you do that? How did you do it?"

Zigfried: "You know that tour bus they let in the Dolby Theater? I was on that bus. I ditched the group and worked my way backstage. Honestly: Have you ever seen a tour group worked into the Academy Awards like that before? No. Because security is tight. The place is like Fort Knox. It just doesn't happen.  But I've been planning it for quite some time. You saw the result ..."

Crepe: "More proof ... we need even more proof."

Zigfried: "Fine. Ever hear of a time when Trump does NOT respond to some tweet or other when provoked? Jimmy Kimmel tried ... and failed. That just doesn't go down ..."

Charlemaine: "So what's your game? What are you trying to prove?"

Zigfried: "That the system is vulnerable and it CAN be broken ..."

Crepe: "Sorry. But that's just not enough to get us to believe you were the instigator ..."

Zigfried: "Okay. Here's one more thing, then. Big awards show, watched by millions all over the world. Was there one word from any of the winners grandstanding about politics? About starving children? Women's rights? Anything? No, there wasn't. Because I got to them, too ... every single one of them."

Charlemaine: "Crap, Crepe. He's right. Scary."

Crepe: "Big deal."

Zigfried: "It IS a big deal. I've shown I can worm my way into the most secure of events. So, here's my demand: Get The Unbelievables to meet with me in 72 hours. Or all hell is going to break loose. You'll see real damage done, not just a simple switcheroo at an awards ceremony ..."

(... to be continued ...)